


Gone Away

by havokwritesstuff



Series: yanderepeterparker (blog) [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Suicide By Proxy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havokwritesstuff/pseuds/havokwritesstuff
Summary: Peter comes back after The Blip to find out that the love of his life is gone
Relationships: Yandere Peter Parker/Reader
Series: yanderepeterparker (blog) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624429
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Gone Away

When Peter returned to life on Titan and was told by Strange that they had all been gone for five years, you were the first thing he thought about. Did you turn to dust like he did, or did you live like some of the others? He hoped with everything that you’d also been taken when Thanos snapped so that the two of you could pick up where you left off. He wanted to still have that beautiful future that you’d planned, and you being five years older than him would make that a lot harder.

On Peter’s first night back in the city, after the fight with Thanos’ army, he went to visit you. When he got to your familiar fire escape, he peeked in to see that your room was totally different, and someone else was sleeping inside. Many of the people that disappeared were displaced from their homes, including himself and May, so it wasn’t beyond possibility that your parents had been forced to find another apartment.

He had no idea where you could be, so he tried to call you, even though it would wake you up, because he just needed to see you. Unfortunately, the line had been disconnected, which would make sense if you were gone for five years.

The next day, he decided to wait outside of your father’s job after making sure he still worked there. When your father got off work, he eagerly followed him home, waiting to see you there. He checked all of the windows for you bedroom, but it looked like there was only one, belonging to your parents, and Peter started to worry. Had you lived? Had you moved on?

Peter went to change into his regular clothes so he could talk to your parents and get more information. They always liked him, so he was confident that they would be happy to see him even after so long. He walked up the steps and knocked on the door, and a few moments later, your father opened it, expression turning sour as his eyes landed on Peter. Suddenly, Peter was nervous as hell, because he’d never been the best at reading people, but your father’s anger was clear. “Sorry to bother you, Mr (Y/L/N), but I’ve been looking for (Y/N)-”

Your father’s harsh voice cut through the air like a knife. “You don’t get to say her name. Not after what you did.” Your dad gripped the door frame tight, as if he was trying to stop himself from grabbing Peter and choking him to death.

Peter frowned, unsure of what he meant. He’d only been back a couple of days, what could he have done. “What did I do? What happened?”

The man’s scowl didn’t let up, even at Peter’s innocent confusion. “You really don’t know?”

Peter went to reply when your mother showed up at the door to see what was going on. She looked almost ghostly, with red rimmed eyes and dark, heavy bags. The moment she spotted Peter, she started to sob, grabbing at her husband’s arm for support. “You killed her! You killed my baby!”

Peter’s heart stopped as the words settled in. “What?”

Your mother _screamed_ , cutting him off quickly. “”GO AWAY! Just leave us alone! Haven’t you done enough?!”

Peter jumped, her tone hitting him deep, since your mom was always so sweet and kind to him. With a final glare, your dad slammed the door in his face, leaving him alone on the stoop. His mind turned to panic mode, and his feet led him back home on autopilot. They had to be wrong. You _couldn’t_ be dead.

When he finally got there, he sat down at his desk and opened up his laptop, taking a deep breath. He typed your name into the search bar, hoping it would just show the news about the awards you had won for Midtown like it always did. The results finally came up and he didn’t like what he saw. There were a handful of ‘new’ articles all saying the same thing.

About three weeks after Thanos snapped, you’d committed suicide.

He opened multiple articles and tears blurred his vision as he tried to read them, because he didn’t want to believe they were about you, but they were. You were dead. Gone.

By the fourth article, Peter was sobbing so hard it hurt his chest. He slammed the laptop shut and threw it across the room, watching it hit his door and smash into pieces. As he stood up, he swiped everything off of his desk and onto the floor. He went over and tore all of his newly hung posters and photos from the wall, throwing their pieces to the carpet. So many of the pictures were of you and he tried not to look, but he did, and it only made him feel worse. He picked up his desk chair and hurled it into the wall, putting a huge hole in it.

Once there was finally nothing left to destroy, he curled up on his side on a clear patch of floor and hugged his knees, wailing at the top of his lungs. May ran in, having just gotten home to hear his agony, and dropped down next to him, a now broken Star Wars toy digging into her knee. “Peter?! Peter, what’s going on?! What’s wrong?!”

He could barely speak through his sobs, but May was able to make it out. “(Y/N), sh-she…she’s g-gone!”

—-

Days later, May was at a loss. Peter refused to leave the room, to eat, to move from the bed, _to be Spider-Man_. She brought in everyone she could think of to try and talk to Peter. Ned, MJ, Tony, Happy. He wouldn’t talk to a single one of them. All he would do was stare at the wall, curled up under a blanket that the two of you used to lay under during movie marathons. It still had a faint smell of you, even after five years, and it was the only thing keeping him from checking out completely.

He heard every word they said. Every condolence, every pep talk from Tony and Happy, every weird joke from MJ in an attempt to get him to smile, every plea from May and Ned for him to say something, _anything_. He didn’t respond, no matter how hard they all tried, and they always tried. There was constantly someone in the room with him, and he realized pretty quickly that they were there to keep him from possibly harming himself.

He didn’t try to hurt himself, no. All he did was lay there and think. Your parents were right, it was his fault. He wasn’t there to stop you or talk you down, and he’d clearly missed something before Thanos snapped him from existence. There was no way you would’ve just killed yourself like that out of nowhere, there had to be a reason.

A little over a week later, Tony sat in the room, his wheelchair parked right next to Peter’s bed. He was still recovering from the effects of the stones, and he really should’ve been home resting, but the kid needed all the help he could get. It hurt Tony to see Peter, who was normally so bright and alive, turn to an empty shell. He knew exactly how much Peter loved you, and while he shared some of the others’ hope that Peter would eventually snap out of it, he wasn’t so sure. Losing the one you’d sworn to love and protect forever because you weren’t there for them was something that stuck with you. Even just _almost_ losing Pepper in his fight with Killian all those years ago had nearly destroyed him.

“I want to see it.”

Tony looked up in surprise, finding Peter’s gaze no longer on the wall, but on his chin, avoiding eye contact. It took him a moment to recover from the shock and respond, but he did. “You’ll have to be more specific, Pete.”

“The note. I wanna see the note.” He knew there had to be one. You wouldn’t have left your parents with nothing.

Tony sighed. Sure, there was a chance that reading it and knowing why would provide closure for Peter, but there was also the possibility that it would throw him deeper into his downward spiral. Knowing Peter and his guilt complex, it was more likely to do the latter, but with the support he had, maybe it would be okay.

Peter sat up very slowly and actually looked Tony in the eyes, his own still just as dull as they’d been since the day the light left his life. “Please, Mr Stark. Please. I have to know what it says.”

Tony cursed himself, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. “Okay, I’ll get the note somehow, but you need to shower, eat a full meal, and get some fresh air. Got it?” Peter agreed immediately, needing to read your final words and find out _why_. He knew it wouldn’t make him feel any better, but he _needed_ to know.

The next day, Happy brought a copy that Tony managed to ~~bribe~~ convince the local police to give him. Peter, finally showered and fed, sat up in bed to read it, and May stood watching in the corner. He took a shaky breath as he opened it up. It was photocopied, so he wasn’t touching the same paper you had and that hurt, but it was the best that Tony could do for him. It was still your handwriting and it made him feel queasy, like the sight of it made it all that much more real. He ran a hand through his hair and finally read the words:

_Dad,_

_I know that you’re already going through a lot since Mom disappeared and I hate to add to it, but I can’t do this anymore. Peter’s gone, and like he always said, no one else will ever love me like he did. Without him, I have no real future. I can’t keep pretending that I do, not even for you. I’m sorry._

Peter reread the words over and over again, his breathing getting faster each time. It wasn’t that he wasn’t there to stop you or talk you down. You did it because of him. You ended your own life because of something he’d told you, words he’d said to you often. He couldn’t have dreamed that they would cause _this_.

May noticed Peter’s distress and quickly came over to sit next to him and rub his back. He broke down into sobs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. The piece of paper burned his skin like acid, and he urged May to take it away from him. “S-she did it because of me. It’s m-my fault…. _I killed her_.”

She carefully turned the paper over and read the same thing that had pushed Peter back to tears like it was the first day. As she did, her heart broke for both of you. It wasn’t _really_ Peter’s fault. From the looks of it, to her, he’d just said something stupid that you took to heart, but she knew he would keep blaming himself no matter what anyone said. Reading the note had probably been the worst thing for him, but she had hope that he would recover somehow.

——–

It had been three months since Peter found out about your death, and he was doing better. He ate, took care of himself, and hung out with his friends. He even went back to school, where Flash had decided to lay off, making it a little easier. He smiled, he laughed, he talked. He was okay with May barring him from Spider-Man until he improved more, which was the most surprising thing.

Of course, it was all a lie.

Everyone else saw the old, happy Peter returning, but he still felt empty and cold. Any crying or getting lost in his thoughts was left for his short, rare moments alone during the day or when May was asleep, because he couldn’t risk that image of recovery being ruined. He needed them to believe that he was doing better so they would back off enough for him to do what he needed to do. 

Naturally, May and Tony suspected that he was bullshitting at least a little since he’d changed so quickly, but they agreed that there must be some real progress underneath it all. The both of them had decided that maybe he would be okay to be left alone for a few hours. When May told him that, he felt a weight lift from his chest. He thought it would be a lot longer before they trusted him at all.

When May left, Peter found himself on the couch, watching the news, _searching_. That was when he came across the perfect thing: live footage of Mac Gargan, now calling himself Scorpion, causing trouble. Peter had ran into the man when he was fighting Toomes and he’d been arrested and badly scarred. He’d had a massive grudge against Spider-Man ever since, and in the last three months since the Blip, he’d constantly been calling for Peter to come out and fight him. Everyone knew Spider-Man was somewhere since the vanished had all returned, meaning Gargan knew too, and he wanted the revenge he’d waited over five years for.

It was his lucky night.

Peter got up from the couch and went to his room. He kneeled down in front of his closet, reaching deep into the back and feeling for the bundle he was looking for. Eventually, he found it and pulled it out into the light. His original Spider-Man suit. It was still roughed up from the fight with Toomes all those years ago, but he’d kept it just in case it came in handy one day. When Tony temporarily took back his suits, he asked about it, and Peter lied, telling him he’d finally thrown it out when they moved. Meanwhile, it had been in the closet, calling to him for months.

He slipped on the suit and jumped from his window, shooting out a web so he could swing away. It felt a little odd, considering it had been three months since the last time he’d done it, but it was like riding a bike. It almost struck a spark of happiness in his heart, though it was gone before it could fully form, because he remembered all of the times he took you swinging around the city.

Peter finally made it to Gargan’s location, where he was attacking some police officers. He landed a few yards in front of him, taking in the metal suit that the man wore, which had a long tail coming from the back with a very sharp tip, mimicking a stinger. “You’re looking for Spider-Man, right? Well, you’ve got him, now let those officers go.”

He shot Peter a sinister grin. “I didn’t think Spider-Man wore footie pajamas anymore.” His tail came around, heading straight towards Peter. His senses tingled, screaming at him to _move_ , but he didn’t, and Gargan’s tail hit him at full force, smashing him into the nearest building. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain in his side as he got to his feet. _Internal damage, good sign_.

He came closer, and Peter figured he should at least make it look good considering it was being broadcast to the whole city, so he webbed a trash can and swung it at the man. It didn’t do much, and he kept stomping his way over.

Gargan grabbed Peter by the throat and slammed him into the concrete, hard enough to crack it. “I thought you’d be more of a challenge.” He ripped the mask off, revealing Peter’s face, already bleeding a little from the impact with the building. The man laughed, throwing the fabric to the side. “You’re just a kid.” He punched Peter square in the face, making blood run from his nose. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll take it easy on you.”

There were a few more hits, which Peter just sat back and took until Gargan’s tail wound back, aiming straight for him. His senses kept trying to warn him, but it was all in vain. He halfheartedly raised his hand up to block it, but the sharp stinger came down and impaled him right in the chest. Gargan grinned as he watched blood quickly pool out from under Peter’s body, but seemed surprised when Peter mirrored his expression, teeth stained red from the blood that flooded his mouth.

He could feel himself growing colder and the world turning darker until a bright blue flash of light, accompanied by a familiar sound, blasted Gargan away from him and ripped the stinger from his body. Suddenly, Tony was kneeling over him, pressing his hands over the hole in his chest. “Dammit, Peter! Stay with me!”

They both knew it was too late. He’d lost too much blood and he had no will to fight anymore. He just wanted to go _home_. Peter placed his hand over Tony’s in an attempt to get things across since he was unable to choke out any last words through the blood.

Tony shook his head, not wanting to accept it. “You’ve gotta stay with me, kid!”

A relieved smile came over Peter’s bruised face as Tony’s form was replaced with darkness and he let out a final breath.

 _He was finally going home_.


End file.
